


That Line We Walk

by SquintyCrossbowMan (JacksMedullaOblongata)



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Fluffier Than My Cat, Like. A lot, M/M, Rickyl, Some internalised homophobia, a whole lotta short sentences, and repetition, and swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-10-06 22:52:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10346391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JacksMedullaOblongata/pseuds/SquintyCrossbowMan
Summary: Rick and Daryl scout for supplies and end up holed up in a gas station store. Their relationship develops.





	1. Exchanging Lies

**Author's Note:**

> I only started watching TWD on, like, the start of March (2017). I'm still just on S3. Sorry for any innaccuracies!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The situation begins.

Rick stopped and held his hand up, pistol raised. His back to the wall, he slowly craned his head around the corner. He felt quiet eyes beside him, watching, waiting for a word.  


Carefully, Rick lifted his gaze, finger brushing the trigger of his gun. It was heavy in his hand, heavy as the silent air in which he held his breath. A soft shift of fabric next to him and the scuff of a notched arrow. Daryl was waiting for a signal, a confirmation, anything. He wasn’t the kind of man to charge round a corner, guns blazing. No, he’d let the leader go first. Rick was grateful for that.  


Around the corner shuffled seven walkers. Two female, one withered and limping, the other sinewy and wide-eyed under its lank blonde hair. Five males. All groaning, aimlessly shambling in circles. Rick turned back to Daryl, whose eyes flicked up to meet his. He was leaning low, ready to move.  


“Seven,” Rick whispered. Daryl didn’t speak but his head nodded a fraction. He raised the crossbow to his face, squinting down the sights. Again, waiting for Rick’s signal. The sheriff breathed in slowly then exhaled. He nodded.  


The two burst around the corner. Rick swung his knife into the nearest walker’s head, splitting skull and spraying brains across the ground. It fell, gurgling bloodily. The next went down as easily as the first. Across from Rick, Daryl swiftly took the two female walkers down before they could even turn, arrows shooting straight into their eyes. He drew a serrated blade from his belt and slashed another across the throat before driving the blade into its eye. Daryl looked across, gaze matching Rick’s. The crossbow swung up and an arrow was fired. Rick barely had time to blink as it whistled past his face into the forehead of a walker directly behind him.  


“What’re you lookin’ at?” Daryl shouted. “Get your ass moving!”  


Rick shook his head before turning, drawing his knife back and plunging it into the rotted cheek of a walker. The blade crunched upwards, into its brain, splattering blood over his hand. Behind him, Daryl dispatched the final walker with a nightstick to the eye. The sound fell back to wind and bugs chirping, above which Rick could hear his and Daryl’s panting as they caught their breath. Daryl slung his crossbow back and fixed the sheriff with a narrow eyed stare. Rick looked back.  


“What?” he asked. Daryl snorted, a dry ‘pffft’ sound Rick had heard often.  


“You know what,” he said as he crouched to search the walkers’ bodies, rummaging through their pockets. He tossed some rusted coins, lint and wrappers over his shoulder. Rick watched one roll past his foot and ran a hand through his hair.  


“I know?” he asked. Daryl stopped and looked up at him.  


“Don’t play dumb. You stop fightin’ just to stand and watch? What, you want my bow or somethin’?”  


Rick didn’t reply. He kept his eyes out towards the fields they had crossed for any stray walkers. Eventually, Daryl stood, wiping his hands on his pants.  


“Nothin’,” he muttered. No bullets, pocket knife, no useful items at all. He snorted again. “And you. Stop lyin’ or this ain’t gonna work out.”  


“I ain’t lying,” Rick replied, though he hesitated slightly. He knew Daryl would’ve caught on to his tone. If he had, he said nothing, just shifted his crossbow again. Fixed Rick with another stare.  


“Let’s go.”  


They continued on, pushing past the parking lot and towards the abandoned gas station store. No walkers inside. Rick rattled the door and groaned – it was tied on the inside with rope. Daryl looked across.  


“Come on, idiot, just cut it with your knife.”  


“I can’t, the door’s too heavy to do both,” Rick shot back, holding it open with his back. Even then it was a strain. Daryl drew his knife and wordlessly reached across, elbow brushing Rick’s chest, sawing the rope. It was tougher than it looked and he had to pause, readjust the knife. He glanced at Rick – that half-second flick of the eyes he often did, possibly checking Rick’s face for expression, maybe just … looking. Rick felt a strange tightness in his chest but he swallowed and it went away. Mostly.  


“Goddamn door,” Daryl muttered, sawing with the knife again, this time leaning in so he wasn’t sawing at an awkward angle. Rick had to draw his arms in as to not touch Daryl’s side. Finally, the rope snapped and the door swung in, causing Rick to fall into the room. A thin smile crossed Daryl’s face.  


“Nice goin’,” he snorted, walking past Rick and stooping to pull a pair of handcuffs from his backpack. He locked the door shut, handle fixed to metal display cabinet. The magazine cabinet itself was bolted to the floor. For the first time since they set out to scout, the two could relax.  


Rick checked the windows. All were boarded over with wood and nails, the slivers of light streaming in bright enough to illuminate the interior. Daryl had placed his crossbow down and was peering at the food in the store – cereal bars, old protein shakes, stale bread and melted ice cream. He snatched up the least torn plastic bag and began to pack items into it. Rick watched. After a while, Daryl slowed. He looked at Rick with a scowl.  


“Man, stop watchin’ me so much!” he snapped. He turned back to the bars. “It’s fuckin’ weird.”  


“Sorry, I …” Rick had no excuses. He just trailed off, tearing his eyes away from Daryl reaching to get cans at the back of a shelf.  


His arms were stretched out. Muscles shifted under the skin. How did Daryl keep them that way? Rick wondered. Probably from lifting the crossbow all day.  


The same feeling returned to his chest. He rubbed it but it wasn’t pain, nor … physical. Rick sighed and went to gather supplies too. As he went, his eyes drifted to outside. He froze.  


On the other side of the room, Daryl saw him stop and stood slowly. His eyes flicked to his bow.  


“What is it?” he hissed. Rick held up a hand to still him. He leaned in to the window, squinting one eye shut.  


“Walkers,” he breathed.  


A whole herd of them. Heading towards the gas station. Drawn by what, Rick couldn’t say, but he knew they couldn't make a run for it. Even as he considered it, he heard the telltale footsteps of walkers moving past the outside walls too. They were surrounded.  


Daryl seemed to have heard too as he turned, eyes moving to the back door of the store. Outside, walkers moved slowly, milling around, able to smell the survivors without locating them. He crouched low and moved quick, getting to the door. Rick ducked so he couldn’t be seen through the gaps in the window boards. Metres away, Daryl was drawing the nightstick from his belt and slotting it through the D-shaped handle of the metal back door, jamming the other end so it couldn’t be forced open. He stood then, breathing out, back to the wall. Something scratched the door from the outside and they both tensed.  


“Now what?” Daryl asked, his voice hushed. Rick shrugged a shoulder, sweat beading his brow. The herd was large and didn’t seem to be leaving anytime soon. He licked his lips.  


“We wait,” he replied.  


*

Daryl and Rick sat with their legs side-by-side, backs to opposite aisles, cards in hand. Rick flicked one onto the ground between them.  


“Y’sure?” Daryl asked, eyes lingering on Rick’s. Piles of bottletops sat beside each of them. Makeshift chips. Rick nodded. He added another card to his five and frowned at them. He pushed some tops to the middle.  


“Call it,” he said. It sounded right to say. Both had forgotten how to play poker exactly, but neither cared. It passed some time.  


Both showed their hands. Daryl held out four of a kind. Rick sighed and handed across his pair of queens. Daryl laughed, a quiet, harsh sound.  


“Come on, man. You can do better than that crap.”  


Rick set his head back against labels reading old names of products and faded prices, letting his hands fall to his lap. Daryl’s head tilted.  


“What, you bored?” he asked. It was ambiguous as to if he sounded amused or offended. Rick’s head lolled forwards as he moved to look at Daryl.  


“What do you think?” he asked dryly. Daryl snorted – that soft ‘pffft’ sound that made Rick’s chest tighten – as he stood.  


“Man, you’re so weak,” he said, looking across the store rather than at Rick.  


Then Daryl stretched. One arm up, the other bent, loosening a crick in his back. Rick found himself staring and cleared his throat, turning his face as Daryl opened his eyes.  


“I’m checking the windows again,” Rick said, pushing himself to his feet. The back of his throat was burning, a choking feeling. Daryl scratched the back of his head.  


“Alright. I’ll watch the door.”  


They went opposite ways and for a moment, Rick thought it was clear.  


“Hey, are you … feelin’ okay?”  


He turned to see Daryl, awkwardly turned, looking at him from near the door. Rick swallowed and nodded wonkily.  


“Uh, yeah. Fine. Why?” he asked. Daryl’s gaze held.  


“Just been actin’ a little weird, s’all,” he murmured, shaking his head and going to the door. Rick’s hands clenched as he tried to stop them shaking.  


Shit. Shitshit _shit_.  


Daryl had noticed. What the hell could he do now? They had been in the store for days now, and God knew how long they’d be stuck. The herd had just grown and was hanging around the store. Trying to leave would be suicide for sure. Rick rubbed a hand over his forehead as he checked the glass and windows boards. He’d just have to suck it up and stay quiet. Keep his eyes to himself.  


Over by the door, Daryl’s arms were crossed as he thought hard. The sheriff had been looking at him. _A lot_. He’d first noticed it when the stupid ass had stopped fighting to what – _watch?_ And now he was just … gazing. Daryl itched his cheek, brow furrowing. No way that guy was trying to hint anything. His wife and son were at their homestead. It meant nothing. Just stares. Maybe Rick was suspicious of Daryl himself. He shrugged it off. No use worrying.  


Even so, Daryl found himself watching Rick more, just to see if he was looking again. The man kept his eyes down and shuttered. Daryl shook his head. He should just forget how he’d caught Rick watching as he stretched.  


But he couldn’t. 

*

Rick awoke. It was early evening. His shoulder hurt from the metal shelf digging into it, the back of his neck aching from being craned sideways. He sat forward, rubbing it and wincing.  


“Eat this. We gotta map our way out for tomorrow, the walkers are on the move,” Daryl said. His eyes still shut, Rick didn’t see the cereal bar tossed at him. It hit him in the chest and he jumped, eyes opening. Daryl smirked, sitting on the counter by the cash register, checking his crossbow. He slotted arrows into it and tested it before sitting back on his hands, the weapon in his lap. He was oddly pensive-looking.  


“Look, I …” he began, stopping. Rick looked at him questioningly. Daryl rubbed the back of his neck. “I saw you … lookin’ at me. Yesterday.”  


Rick went very still and cold. His mouth dried up. Not this confrontation. Not now.  


Daryl looked him in the eye.  


“Got anythin’ you wanna tell me?” he asked. Not accusing. Open. Rick felt his skin burning inside.  


The silence hung between them, a tense thread. One wrong word and it would snap. Daryl didn’t even blink, his eyes burning through Rick’s. The sheriff blinked first, looking away.  


“No,” he said. The lie was bitter on his tongue. Daryl said nothing for what felt like entire minutes before finally blinking too. Rick turned his vision back to him. “You got anything you wanna say to me?”  


Daryl paused. Hesitated. Then –  


“Nah.”  


Rick felt as if both of them had lied then, the line taut with deception. But neither was about to accuse the other of lying when he himself had lied. Daryl went to a window and sat looking out. Rick cleared his throat.  


“I reckon we could make our way across the lot there,” Daryl said, pointing to the glass. He glanced at Rick to get him to come over. Rick heaved up and crossed to join him. Both men squinted out the slats between the wood. A path snaked between cars to a low wooden fence. Over the fence was a car and, past the car, a clear path down a small river.  


“If we get to that car, it could run,” Rick whispered. Two inches away, Daryl squinted.  


“And if it doesn’t run?” he murmured, not turning to look, just speaking facing out. Rick tried to hold his gaze out – stopping himself looking at the man inches away, who had lied about having nothing to say.  


“Then we keep pushin’,” Rick replied softly. He and Daryl turned at the same time, the latter narrowing his eyes. That same painful silence was strung tight.  


“Fuck, man,” Daryl breathed, breath warm on Rick’s face. Rick felt something trickle down his back. Cold sweat. His fingers twitched.  


“What?” he asked. Daryl snorted. Rick couldn’t breathe.  


“Ya need to stop doin’ these weird-ass moments,” Daryl said, moving away quickly. “It’s damn annoying.”  


“I’m not doin’ anything,” Rick retorted, looking back out the window. “You’re dreamin’ it.”  


“Yeah, sure,” Daryl said, a dry humour in his voice. “God, man, are you goin’ nuts or are you just distracted easily?”  


“I just – stare sometimes,” Rick said. _Another lie._  


“Well, stop. It’s irritatin’ me,” Daryl said. _Another lie._


	2. Keeping Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick and Daryl plan their escape. Rick is finding it harder to deal with his feelings.

Night fell and when it fell, it fell fast. The light bled from the store, casting vast shadows across the room behind the shelves, leaving only slivers where moonlight fell. Colour bleached from the walls. Birdsong dropped to mute. Nothing but walkers, crickets and their own voices if they chose to speak.  


It was nights they were closest. It was cold and dark and neither trusted themselves to sleep in opposite ends of the store for the sake of – what, _heteronormativity?_  


The two slept side by side, back to back, with old blankets over their legs. Gun and crossbow in retrospective laps. Some nights Rick would wake up with Daryl’s head on his shoulder. One morning, even touching hands. Neither ever mentioned that if it happened. They would just get up and continue their day, nothing mentioned. Because it meant nothing.  


_That fine line we tread is going to meet in the middle._  


“Man, it’s fuckin’ cold,” Daryl said, his breath clouding as he went to check the window.  


“Stop complainin’ and help with this,” Rick said, a smile gracing his eyes. He was struggling to light a fire from a pile of old newspaper and a half-empty lighter. Daryl strode across to him and crouched to his knees, taking the lighter. Knuckle brushed bruised knuckle. It only took a moment for Daryl to light it. Orange flared to life below their faces and brought heat. Despite themselves, both smiled.  


“Never get enough of that satisfaction,” Daryl said, sitting back on his haunches. He scratched the back of his head, meeting Rick’s eyes. His smile slid away after a moment. They both sat by the fire, watching the tiny flames dance as the papers curled into black nothingness. Rick kept his eyes down, guarded, refusing to meet Daryl’s. He was afraid of what would happen – what his face would give away – if he did.  


“What do we got to eat?” he asked, attempting to get Daryl to speak more. He didn’t want to do the talking. What would he say?  


“Smeat. Not much, but enough,” Daryl answered, pushing the can forwards. He finally sat back, relaxed. “Can a’peaches. Bottla sparklin’ water.”  


Rick couldn’t help a smile twisting his lips.  


“Fancy,” he said, grinning at Daryl. Daryl returned it before taking to the can, sticking the blade of his knife into the edge. Rick did likewise with the smeat. Something shot through his chest and sent a lump to his throat. He blinked away the thoughts.  


“Somethin’ on your mind?” Daryl asked, looking up from his can. The lid was half open. Peach juice ran down his knife. For a moment, word’s rolled up in Rick’s throat and threatened to spill out. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted to say. So he lied.  


“No. You?”  


Pause.  


“No.”  


Both went back to their cans without saying anymore. Both had lied. Neither would admit it.  


“There we go,” Daryl said, the can lid finally popping off. Rick prised the lid off the smeat. They took turns eating, swapping cans halfway. No words were said as they ate. The air was heavy with what went unspoken.  


“So ... you still got nothin’ to admit?” Daryl asked after an hour of silence. The fire was down to embers and he pushed more paper to it with his foot. Rick adamantly shook his head.  


“No.”  


“Me neither,” Daryl said under his breath.  


“Stop,” Rick said. Daryl looked up. “You keep asking me if I’ve got anything to say. And then agree. What, if I say yes, you’ll say it too?”  


Daryl narrowed his eyes.  


“No. The hell are you on about?” he asked suspiciously. No reply. He didn’t push for one.  


*

“You should sleep.”  


Daryl looked up. Rick’s eyes were half shut as he rubbed them with the heel of his hand.  


“Man, don’t wake up so you can tell me to sleep,” he snorted.  


“I woke up because you crinkled that bottle of water for the sixth time,” Rick replied.  


“So sorry my need for water disturbed your beauty sleep.” Daryl stood as he spoke and scuffed the fire out with his heel, shifting his jacket onto his shoulders. Darkness enveloped the store instantly, the only light a chink of moonlight through the window near their heads. Rick heard Daryl moving, saw his shadow shift through the dark. A hand brushed his before it was pulled away.  


“Sorry. Couldn’t see it in the dark.”  


“S’fine.”  


“Didn’t mean t –”  


“I said, it’s _fine._ ”  


Daryl sat by Rick heavily, sighing. He slid the crossbow off his shoulder and put it by his legs.  


“Fuck. I’m tired. If we’re going tomorrow, we need to rise early to get all we need.”  


In the dark, Rick saw his eyes, a tiny shard of moonlight reflecting back. They were gazing steadily, narrowed as usual. The sheriff looked away.  


“Well. Goodnight.”  


“... Night.”  


Rick fell asleep with his back to Daryl’s. He dreamed of burning eyes and pupils the size of the moon.  


*

Rick woke before Daryl did. Weak sunlight told him it wasn’t even six in the morning. It was silent outside, with only occasional birdsong twittering. Beside him, Daryl was asleep. His fringe trailed over his eyes, hanging from his brow, his head tilted where it rested on Rick’s shoulder.  


This was keeping his mouth shut. This was Rick at his most painful, the feeling corroding him inside, burning in his stomach. This was not allowed.  


This was keeping secrets.  


Rick shut his eyes, slowing his racing heart with one, two, three deep breaths. The head on his shoulder shifted – a sleepy mumble, flutter of the eyelids – but didn’t wake. Yet. The burning in his stomach was nauseous, knew this was wrong. _For God’s sake, remember Lori and Carl._  


Still. Rick couldn’t shake the feeling.  


Beside him, Daryl kept his eyes shut. He had heard Rick wake, felt him shift, pulse picking up under his skin. Pounding. Panicked? Elated? Daryl wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Could he confront Rick about it? Was he able to have _that_ question aimed at him, too?  


_Surely ... with Rick’s family, back at base ... he would never ..._  


Daryl’s eyes flicked open. Sunlight was filtering through the windows. His hand rested on his crossbow, the other in the space between them. Rick’s hands were resting on his knees. His head turned, eyes not reaching Daryl’s.  


“You’re awake,” he said quietly. _I’ve been sitting with your head on my shoulder since I woke up._  


“Only just woke,” Daryl said. _I’ve been awake for hours and felt your heartbeat._  


Neither moved, suddenly bone-tired, half done with the lies and the denial. Rick got up first, moving across to the pack of cans and bars. He passed a cereal bar to Daryl, who leaned to take it.  


Hand touched hand. Eyes met, closed off. Daryl’s lips, just the corners, turning up into a silent, grateful smile. Rick letting go, his fingers numb where they had touched Daryl’s.  


_Fuck._  


“We gettin’ out today?” Daryl asked, half a cereal bar in his mouth as he looked out of the window.  


“If the walkers are clear enough, we can,” Rick said, checking his holster as he swung the pack onto his back. Daryl squinted.  


“Looks like we can get to that car. It doesn’t run, we know to keep goin’. Right?” he asked.  


“Yeah,” Rick responded, his heart finally calming down. It was reassuring – maybe he had been reading into it too much. He was over it already. There was nothing between them.  


“Back door or front door?” Daryl asked.  


“Uh,” Rick said. Daryl looked to him.  


“It’s quickest down there through the front, but we might get a stealth advantage if we sneak out back. What d’you think?” he explained.  


“Oh. Uh. Back, we don’t want to get swarmed,” he answered. Daryl nodded and took up his crossbow, swinging it onto his back.  


“Alright,” he said, doing a final sweep of the store for anything they may have missed. He seemed satisfied as he went to wait by the back door, listening carefully. Rick took a deep breath and drew his knife, holding it tight, ready to strike if there was a walker right outside the door. He met Daryl’s eyes, both of them by the door, and his head tipped. Signal.  


Daryl drew the nightstick free, a metallic _shing_ sound reverberating through the door, and Rick pushed it open. Peered out. No walkers. He and Daryl ran quick and low, Daryl with his crossbow up and Rick with his hand at his belt, at his gun. They stopped when they got to the end of the back wall, Rick leaning round to see the walker count. At least twenty, spaced out. He turned back to Daryl.  


“If we run,” he said breathlessly, “we could make it without wasting time or bullets. There are walkers, but they aren’t in a solid group. Pairs at most.”  


“So we’re runnin’?” Daryl asked. Rick confirmed it. Daryl drew his knife from his belt, just in case. Deep breath in and out. Rick said, “Ready?”  


The two rounded the corner, sticking close to the wall of the store. Walkers lifted their heads instantly, eyes swivelling in hollow sockets, diseased pupils fixing on the two men. The raw growls hounded Daryl and Rick as they ran, ducking reaching arms and jagged fingernails. They barely got halfway to the car when walkers began swarming from the trees.  


“Shit!” Rick gasped, halting his run, holding an arm out to stop Daryl. Walkers moved towards them in that unbelievably quick shuffling gait. They were surrounded.  


“What now?” Daryl asked, his back to Rick’s. “Those fuckers are everywhere. We gotta go back.”  


The car was so close – but if it didn’t run, they were as good as dead. Rick cursed again, his heart hammering in his chest.  


“Rick! We have to go back!” Daryl shouted above the cacophony of walker snarls. He grabbed Rick’s arm to get his attention. “Come _on!_ ”  


They began to make their way back to the store but the walker herd was growing, and it was getting harder to avoid being scratched or bitten. Daryl elbowed a walker in the chest and stabbed through its teeth, its eyeball bursting into bloody jelly. He freed the knife and continued on to the store. Then he turned. _Where the hell was Rick?_  


“Rick!” Daryl shouted, panic blooming in his chest as he scanned the crowd for the sheriff. No way could he have left Rick for dead. No way was the man taken down by just another herd. “ _Rick!_ ”  


A flash of a knife and Rick’s face. He was ducked low, taking out walkers as they tried to press him in. Daryl raced across, bow raised to his eye. Three went down with arrows in their skulls. Another fell from his kick, writhing until he half-decapitated it with his knife.  


Inside the herd, Rick was finding it harder and harder to dodge the grasping hands and salivating mouths. All his calls for Daryl fell on deaf ears. Surely he wouldn’t have been left behind? No, the crowd was thinning – he was being saved. Rick killed the three walkers in front of him, able to stand again. A hand grabbed onto his arm and he spun, stabbing out.  


Daryl stared back at him. Rick’s lungs stopped working. Neither moved. Then their eyes drifted down, to Daryl’s arm, where the knife was buried.  


“Oh, _shit._ ”  


“We gotta – get to the store,” Daryl said, wincing. “Man, it’s not that bad, just get us in!”  


Rick let go of the knife and drew his gun, covering them as they fought back to the store. He held the door open and practically pulled Daryl in, slamming it closed and holding it shut with his back.  


“I need your nightstick, Daryl!” he exclaimed, his feet skidding on the dusty floor as walkers tried to force it open. Daryl tossed it to Rick, who jammed it through the handle. The door rattled but the nightstick held tight. On the floor in front of him, Daryl was looking at the knife in his arm. Rick saw it again and fear flooded through him.  


“Daryl, let me –” he started. Daryl was holding his knife between his teeth, stretching out a length of bandage. The bow lay next to him.  


“I’m just glad you didn’t go for my head,” he said, teeth gritted. Rick moved over and knelt so he was the same height as Daryl, reaching out.  


“Let me, I did this,” he said, taking the bandage. Daryl didn’t protest. Even though his face was neutral, the sheen on his forehead gave away the pain he was feeling. The knife had pierced his upper left arm, not all the way through but deep enough to do damage. Rick held the bandage and folded a pad of cotton to soak the blood into it, holding a safety pin in his mouth. He met Daryl’s eyes.  


“Ready?” he asked. Daryl nodded, his free hand taking hold of the knife hilt. He breathed in through his nose. Preparing for the pain. Then he removed the knife.


	3. Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick gets something off his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kudos and hits! It's so amazing to see you're reading this :0 I have so many ideas for what happens later, so I hope you're not bored yet! Also, your comments mean so much to me aaa

Daryl pulled the knife straight out, his teeth clenched. Blood ran from the wound, streaking down his arm. The walkers were frenzying outside the doors and windows, scratching and fighting to get in. Rick wrapped the bandage tightly around Daryl’s arm, trying to concentrate on fixing the injury and not how Daryl’s stuttering breaths were right by his ear.  


“Hold it there,” Rick instructed. Daryl held the loose end of the gauze so Rick could take the safety pin from his mouth and pin the bandage in place. “That should be okay. We need to get back so Hershel can look at it.”  


“It’s fine,” Daryl said, lifting his arm experimentally. “I’ve had worse.”  


“You want to die of a cut arm?” Rick asked. Daryl snorted and it brought everything Rick felt back.  


“Man. Imagine dying because you fuckin’ stabbed me. I’d rather go down under a pil’a walkers before that happens.”  


“Don’t get your hopes up. Somebody’ll probably shoot you in the head.”  


“Yeah, right.”  


Daryl looked with narrowed eyes towards the door where walkers were still scrabbling. “Those bitches had better go soon or these windows ain’t holdin’ out.”  


Rick checked his gun and swore.  


“Shit. Not many bullets. We won’t be able to fight our way out of this. We should board up the doors too, try to strengthen them.”  


Daryl agreed. He collected boards from the floor as Rick found nails. He used his knife hilt as a hammer, layering wood over the gaps as Daryl held them in place. The store was gradually getting darker as the windows were closed over completely. Limited light came through the front door as he boarded over the glass windows in the frame, covering where the walkers had cracked it. Only very few gaps of light remained, little enough that they found themselves squinting to see for more nails. The reinforcement had good results – it reduced how much the walkers could smell of them, too. The steel back door of the store had a length of pipe added alongside the nightstick to hold it fast.  


“You find any painkillers?”  


Rick jumped. Daryl was right behind him, holding his arm. The bandages were faintly red. Rick shook his head, taking up his torch and shining it out. Daryl held up his hand. 

“Mind the eyes.”  


“Sorry,” Rick said absently, flashing his torch around. He shimmied between aisles, stepping over trash towards the back of the store, half tripping on old cans of soda and empty gas cans. Buried under papers and old magazines, he found a couple of bottles of painkillers and – he smiled – warm, flat beer. He tossed the bottles of pills to Daryl as he came back and, torch in mouth, raised the bottles of beer. Daryl grinned.  


“Holy _shit_. That should kill the pain. I haven’t had beer in fuckin’ months.”  


“Drink responsibly,” Rick grinned, handing one over so Daryl could wash down the pills. He popped the cap with a thumbnail and tossed back some pills, swilling beer around his mouth.  


“ _Fuck me_ ,” Daryl said, with the most sincere smile Rick had ever seen. “This is _fuckin’ good_.” 

* 

It was strange. Drinking together, not speaking much, just enjoying the moment. The walkers had died down, losing interest. The sunlight was fading outside and, with the windows boarded over, it was plunging into darkness faster than before. It was the happiest both had been in a long time. For the moment, Rick had even forgotten about Lori and Carl.  


“Another beer if you want it,” Rick said, poking the bottle with his foot. It rolled towards Daryl with a grating glass sound. As Rick uncapped his own second beer, Daryl fixed him with a gaze.  


“You tryin’ to get me drunk?” he asked. He felt good. He wasn’t drunk – just buzzing, painless.  


“How could you accuse me of such a thing? I’m a cop,” Rick replied, holding out his bottle. He clinked it against Daryl’s. This time, as they each took the first draught from their bottles, the eye contact remained. Time slowed. Stretched out. Close to breaking.  


“What?” Daryl asked, lips to his bottle as he spoke. A glazed sheen to his eyes, a relaxed mouth. Not smiling, but almost.  


“Nothin’,” Rick replied, taking another sip of beer. “How’s your arm?”  


Daryl shrugged.  


“S’fine. Doesn’t hurt right now. It’s gonna sting like a bitch in the morning. An’ my head too, at this rate.”  


He rested the bottle on his knees, turning it slowly. “I’m just worried ‘bout my brother. He could be dead and I’m sat drinkin’ with his least favourite person.”  


“I’m sure he’s fine,” Rick said, his heart sinking nevertheless. He didn’t want to get stuck on the topic of Merle. He wanted to forget the outside world and everyone in it, even just for a night.  


“Look, can we – can we not discuss this?” he asked. Daryl stopped turning the bottle and turned that narrow gaze back to Rick.  


“Sure,” he said quietly. The moment had passed. 

To lessen the tension, Rick asked, “Am I your least favourite person?”  


“Pffft. As if,” Daryl said, looking back at his bottle.  


“Nah, you’ve got me curious now,” Rick said, leaning forward. “Who is it?”  


“I’m not startin’ this,” Daryl shot back. “You say first.”  


“No, I ain’t sayin’.”  


“Then I ain’t either.”  


“Fine with me.”  


Both drank again, Daryl taking more pills. He itched his arm. Rick stared.  


“What?” Daryl asked again.  


“I ain’t been honest with you,” Rick said abruptly. For a second, Daryl didn’t react. Then he moved to sit cross-legged, frowning. He put the bottle down.  


“ _What?_ ” he repeated for the thousandth time that night. Déjà vu. Rick sighed, putting his own bottle down. He couldn’t back out. Not now. Daryl could read him better than anyone.  


“You’ve, ah ... noticed me ... lookin’ ...” he said slowly. Daryl’s eyes were narrowed to slits. He was sat incredibly still.  


“I ...” Rick swallowed. “Have been ... feeling ... somethin’. For you.”  


“Seriously?” Daryl asked. His voice quiet – dangerously so. If he’d shouted, it would have been clearer. This whisper gave away _nothing_.  


“Seriously,” Rick said. His heart was in his throat, threatening to leap out. His palms sweated where he clenched them together. Daryl, again, was unmoving. Without a word, he stood and walked to the opposite side of the store, taking his crossbow with him. The only thing left was the half empty bottle of beer. Rick put his hands to his face and suppressed the anguish. He should’ve kept his stupid mouth _shut_. But no, now it was out, and he was screwed. Daryl knew – he _knew_ , and he hadn’t reacted well. It was over for Rick.  


*

 _What the fuck is Rick thinking?_  


Daryl ran a finger along the sharp head of an arrow as he thought – _fought_ – inside – his head. He could see Rick where he had left him, head in his hands. Daryl rubbed his forehead and sighed slowly, steadying his thoughts. Rick had Lori and Carl. He knew it, Rick knew it, _everyone_ knew it. The whole group knew how much Rick loved and cared for his family. He was _dedicated_ to them. No way was what he was saying was ... true?  


“What you jus’ said,” Daryl called, his voice echoing across the silence store. He saw Rick’s hands leave his face. He was listening. “You mean ... when you said you’re feelin’ somethin’ ...”  


“I mean, I feel for you in a way I don’t understand,” Rick replied, his voice emotionless. Daryl said no more, watching Rick silently. He didn’t know what to say anymore. Something dumb like _Me too_? Was that even true? Daryl’s thoughts were clouded for the first time in a long time. He was normally clear-headed but now, with Rick’s confession in the air, it was hard to gather what was true and what wasn’t.  


“What about Lori? An’ Carl?” Daryl asked. Rick’s breathing stopped, as if it had only just hit him. He let out a sobbing breath.  


“I don’t know why. These last few days ... since you and I have become like – like friends, it started. Deep down at first ... but it’s been harder to ignore. And I don’t ...”  


His voice began to crack. “I don’t know _why_.”  


Daryl said nothing. It hurt that he seemed so unaffected. Rick covered his face again. “Now I’ve ruined what we had ...”  


“No you ain’t.”  


Rick looked up.  


“I – what?”  


“You ain’t ruined nothin’ yet.”  


Rick was speechless, staring into the dark where Daryl was. Whether it was mutual feelings or just an acceptance, Daryl wasn’t making it clear, but it was the best thing he could have said. They slept in opposite sides of the store, both minds in the same place.  


_I think I love you._  


*

“Still there,” Daryl murmured to himself grimly, seeing the walkers all outside. It was an overcast day, the store lit with a diluted grey light. Shadows seeped through the space, painting it almost colourless. Still asleep, Rick was slumped over, arms crossed. Empty beer bottles by his feet. Daryl felt a stab in his heart when he looked at the sheriff. He touched his arm where the bandage was. He needed more painkillers. The hangover wasn’t as bad as he’d expected it to be. Nothing better than beer to ease it, he thought as he picked up his half-empty bottle from the night before. He drank some and washed it over his teeth to get rid of the rancid aftertaste that lay on his tongue. The fruity beer sent that familiar warm buzz down his body.  


Daryl sat on the counter, bow hanging over his shoulder, sipping the beer and tossing back some of the pills. All the time he was watching Rick. Turning over what he had said inside his head.  


_I feel for you in a way I don’t understand._  


Daryl had never really _got_ love. Never understood it, never _felt_ it in a romantic way. The only love he had was platonic, for his bow and his brother, for the group of survivors. _Romantic_ love had never even crossed his mind ... even for Carol. But when he looked at Rick, it was like a light inside his mind was switched on. Maybe it was just a connection – kindred spirits and all that bullshit.  


“Stop lyin’,” he muttered to himself, taking another swig of the beer. “Face it.”  


“You speakin’ to me?”  


Rick sat up, opening his eyes blearily, shielding a yawn with his hand. Daryl hadn’t realised he was speaking loud enough to be heard. He shook his head, refocusing his gaze to the far window. Rick palmed his forehead.  


“Christ. My _head_. You got any more of those painkillers?” he asked, feeling as if the devil of hangovers had come down onto his skull. Daryl rolled the small white bottle over to the sheriff and held out his beer, too.  


“Somethin’ to wash it down,” he said when Rick looked at him in confusion. Rick took the bottle with a nod and downed the painkillers, _Darylwasdrinkingfromthisbottle_ , and winced as the bitter taste was sluiced down his throat.  


“How’s it look outside?” he asked, a hand to his head, one eye squinted closed. Daryl craned his head to see out the window.  


“Not good. They’re still there. Maybe the group’ll send someone after us soon. Find us, help us out.”  


“I gotta say, thank god we covered the windows. This is nowhere near as bad in the dark,” Rick said, his attempt at humour failing. Daryl felt the question in his mouth and turned away, making sure he was by the window when he asked it. He didn’t want to be looking at Rick, trapped in a gaze.  


“How did you know?” he asked. Behind him, Rick frowned.  


“Know what?” he asked.  


“That you loved Lori.” _Or me._  


It was an unexpected question, from Daryl of all people. Rick put the bottle down.  


“I just ... knew. When I looked, it just felt right. It sounds stupid, but it ain’t. I knew in my heart it was there.”  


_Who was he talking about?_  


“Okay,” Daryl said. His skin was prickling. Rick was watching him.  


“You know, Daryl ... you didn’t say anything yesterday. How do you feel about ... about me?”  


Rick regretted the question as he asked it because Daryl turned sharply, something in his eye.  


“The fuck are you insinuatin’?” he asked, voice low. “I ain’t some –”  


“Okay,” Rick interrupted. “Calm down. I didn’t mean no harm by it.”  


He got up, making his way over to a shelf of old magazines. He began taking pages to burn over a fire. By the window, Daryl returned to facing outside.  


Was lying the right thing to do? Regardless, he wasn’t about to admit to anything, especially to Rick. If Rick’s feelings passed when they got back to Lori, Daryl didn’t want Rick to know his remained. It was war inside his mind. If he even said, he wouldn’t have a chance. It was better to let it die. Not getting attached would make it easier when one of them inevitably died, too.  


Daryl closed his eyes. Listened to Rick behind him. The man felt betrayed and humiliated by Daryl’s rejection. He’d opened himself up only to get shut down, without even an apology, anything to lessen the blow.  


_I just ... knew. When I looked, it just felt right._  


Daryl looked at Rick’s back, where the sheriff was piling papers up, crumpling them with his hands. When he looked, it felt ...  


New.  


Daryl pushed it away. Words that Merle had spoken years ago came back to him.  


_“I don’t want my baby brother ending up gettin’ hung up on something as fuckin’ stupid as feelings. You push ‘em down. Forget they ever happened. The world doesn’t have time for that sentimental shit.”_  


As he recalled, Merle had just gone through a messy breakup with some girl. At the time, it had seemed overdramatic. Now, Daryl got it. He didn’t want to waste time – emotion – energy – on feelings. So he pushed it down.


	4. Testing the Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl finds himself fighting his feelings for Rick. As night falls, it gets harder for him to do so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a shorter chapter! Enjoy! Your kudos and comments mean so much <3

_Rick was running after Daryl. Calling for him to stop. Walkers were everywhere, around him, clawing at his clothes and hair. His gun was knocked from his hand, his knife missing. His voice was hoarse as he called out. But Daryl just turned, didn’t help. Crossbow on his shoulder. Knife at his belt._  


_Rick was taken down, the walkers strangely painless even as they tore at his skin, his flesh. He reached an arm out to Daryl – begging – crying out for a saviour.  
_

_Still, Daryl just watched. Looking down at him.  
_

_“You should’ve kept your damn mouth shut,” he said, the voice echoing in Rick’s head, becoming his own. I should’ve kept my  
_

_damn  
_

_mouth  
_

_shut.  
_

Rick sat up gasping, his heart pounding.  


“Hey, what is it?” Daryl asked, coming across and crouching by him. “You see somethin’?”  


He touched Rick’s arm and Rick grabbed his hand blindly. Both jolted.  


“The fuck are you doin’?” Daryl demanded, yanking his hand free as if Rick had burned him. Rick stared at him.  


“I – thought you had left me,” he said, realising how ridiculous it sounded out loud. Daryl frowned.  


“Why would I do that?” he asked, standing up again. “You just had a nightmare, s’all.”  


Rick caught his breath. Just a nightmare. His head swam with the fear he had brought with waking.  


“Walkers aren’t gone yet,” Daryl told him from across the store. He was gutting a squirrel.  


“Where the hell did you get that?” Rick asked, looking at the bizarre sight. Here they were in a store of – admittedly stale – food, and Daryl was preparing a squirrel to eat.  


“Back of the store. Heard it scratchin’ around, stuck in a box,” was the reply. “I’m sick of bars. An’ we’re outta smeat.”  


He looked back at Rick. “You fell asleep for a coupla hours. It’s gonna get dark soon, so find what you want now. I ain’t sharin’ this.”  


“Generous,” Rick said, pulling himself up and stretching the weariness from his bones. He gestured at Daryl with a finger. “Let me check your arm.”  


Daryl put his knife and the squirrel down, turning so Rick could reach the bandage in what light remained. Rick held up his flashlight to see it clearer, unclipping the gauze and peeling back the cotton pad.  


“Looks good. Not infected, I mean,” he said, leaning in. “I’ll change this and then I’ll leave you alone.”  


“Thanks.”  


Rick grabbed more gauze and another couple of cotton pads, getting Daryl to hold the flashlight with his free hand. He could feel the gaze on the top of his head as he focused on cleaning the wound, swiping it with antiseptic before bandaging it back over.  


“There. Not long till Hershel can sew it up,” he said, leaning back, holding back on the _hopefully_ that rose up. Daryl kept his gaze on Rick’s face, his eyes quiet. For an eternity, they were inches apart, staring at each other. Something flickered in Daryl’s eyes but then he turned.  


“Get lookin’ fast. Sun’s sinkin’.”  


As Rick walked through the store to scavenge more food, his heart was beating hard. That moment where they had just ... stopped. There had been something on Daryl’s face, like he was holding back. Rick’s eyebrows knitted together. _He feels it too, surely._ But then the hope dropped along with his stomach when he pictured Lori’s face – wide eyes, betrayed at what he was thinking. _How could you?_ she said, an echoing whisper, holding Carl close to her. _Him? Over us?_  


Rick felt sick at the thought of her finding out. Whatever happened here, it couldn’t come back to the farm.  


“Might be able to get movin’ tomorrow,” Daryl said. Rick nodded.  


“Daryl ...” he said, his voice dropping halfway as he hoped Daryl hadn’t heard him.  


“What?”  


_Damn._  


“I’m glad we had this time.”  


“S’cool. Me too.”  


There it was again. The extra left unsaid. The room thick with secrets. Daryl rubbed his nose with the heel of his hand. Squinted at Rick. Looked to the side. Looked to the floor.  


“Look, I ...”  


He looked back to Rick. “I didn’t mean t’seem rude before ... walkin’ off. Jus’, what you said, it’s ... a lot to take in. ‘Specially with ...”  


He meant Lori and Carl.  


Daryl added, “Look, I like you. Don’t make this weird.”  


Rick smiled dryly. _Then admit it_ , he wanted to say. _Tell me you feel it too and I’ll forget this ever happened._ He kept his mouth shut.  


It was dark now, the sun below the horizon. Daryl left the window to light the fire. Rick joined him, empty handed.  


“I may be tired of eatin’ cereal bars but it’s all I’ve got,” he said, making brief eye contact with Daryl. A wry smile shared. Another silent meal. They shared the last beer.  


Rick kept watch that night, feeding scraps of newspaper to the tiny fire, his eyes flicking up now and again. Daryl was asleep, arms folded over the crossbow in his lap, head tipped back. Rick turned his tired eyes back to the orange flame. He felt the itch in his nose barely a second before he sneezed loudly. To his dismay, the fire was put out.  


“Was that a gunshot or a sneeze?” Daryl asked dryly, eyes cracking open. Rick was attempting to light another fire, blindly pushing a stack of page scraps together, but the lighter wasn’t responding.  


“Out of lighter fluid,” he said, sitting back. Cold swept over him now that the fire was gone and he found himself shivering. “I forgot how much heat that fire gave out.”  


“Don’t just sit there bein’ cold, y’idiot. Come over here,” Daryl said. It was a cloudy night – even that sliver of moonlight was gone. The store was entirely dark.  


“Over where?” Rick asked, feeling ridiculous.  


“I don’t know. I forget. Follow my voice.”  


“Hard to do when you stop talkin’. Where’s my flashlight?” Rick asked, fumbling about. He just felt cans and dust – no flashlight.  


“Beats me. Jus’, I don’t know, find your way over. I ain’t gettin’ up and crawlin’ around.”  


Rick snorted, almost laughing in the dark. He was reminded of his childhood days, on camping trips, on the breakneck trips to the bathroom in the pitch blackness of night.  


“This is stupid,” he said.  


“You’re tellin’ me,” Daryl said. Rick began to try finding Daryl, waving his hand out in front.  


“Am I close?” he asked.  


“Can I see in the dark? I don’t kno –”  


Rick’s hand hit something moving and he retracted his arm. Daryl made a noise and said, “that was my face! Watch it!”  


“At least I got here,” Rick muttered, his eyes adjusting enough that he could see a faint outline which had to be Daryl. He sat next to him, shoulders touching.  


“You made that sound a lot harder than it was, I bet,” Daryl said, his voice near Rick’s ear.  


“Shut up,” Rick said. It was warmer now, sat by Daryl. He heard the crossbow rest on the ground with a scratching sound, metal against stone.  


“I’ve seen the look on your face,” Rick said without warning. Daryl didn’t reply. “Earlier. When we just stopped ... I saw it in your eyes.”  


The moon came out from behind the clouds, briefly illuminating the store through the window gap. The sides of their faces were lit up white. Daryl’s was barely two inches from Rick’s and he was looking directly at him. Rick’s hand twitched. “If you have something to tell me ... this is the last chance you have.”  


Daryl’s eyelids flickered. He looked away, his mouth a thin line. The clouds passed back over the moon, casting them into perfect darkness once again. Rick’s heart was in his mouth. He felt as if Daryl was able to hear it.  


_It’s not right_ , Daryl wanted to say, _you feelin’ like that. When your wife an’ son are back at camp._ But a voice at the back of his head said slowly, _nobody would know. It would stay between us ... here. Then we could forget, pretend it never happened._  


“I ...”  


_No guilt. It’s just ... testing the water with Rick. Right? _  
__

“What?” Rick asked, his voice soft. Daryl shifted, moving his shoulder away from Rick’s. Turned slightly. They were facing in the dark.  


“I don’t know,” Daryl said, barely audible. He hated feeling like this – he wanted his old self back, the one who didn’t care, the one who didn’t give two shits about _love_ or _Rick_. The _Dixon_ in him. He could picture the distaste on Merle’s face.  


“You – mean –” Rick was saying. Daryl didn’t respond. Rick searched for him, found his uninjured arm. “Daryl – what are you _sayin’_?”  


“I’m sayin’ ... I ain’t been truthful too.”  


Rick’s heart did more than a flutter in his chest – it all but ceased beating when he heard those words, words he’d never expected to hear. He gripped Daryl’s shoulder.  


“Y – you ... you sure?” he asked. _My heart is going to explode._  


Daryl looked to where Rick’s hand was, unable to see it in the darkness. He swallowed. Pushed away the trepidation, the prejudicial hate his father had impressed upon him. Still, he didn’t speak.  


Rick’s eyes were wide in the dark. He was breathing shallowly, trying to find Daryl’s face. He was hard enough to read as is – here, his vision all but gone, with Daryl silent, it was even harder.  


“Daryl,” he said hoarsely. “Daryl, _talk to me._ ”  


Where he was holding Daryl’s shoulder, he picked up his pulse. It was fast, hammering, like Rick’s own. His mind went blank except for one thing – _Daryl feels the same way_.  


_Act now_ , a small voice said. _I can’t_ , his mind whispered. _What if he pushes me away? Then it’s ruined._ The voice said, _only one way you can know._  


“Can you get off my arm?” Daryl asked. “You’re holdin’ pretty tigh –”  


Rick raised his other hand, finding Daryl’s face, leaning forward as he pulled Daryl in. Sudden. Fast. He tasted beer, gun smoke, a bitter mix. Daryl’s hands scrabbled, found Rick’s chest, pushed him away.  


“The _hell_ , Rick?” he exclaimed, stunned. Rick moved in again and this time, Daryl didn’t push him as hard, half-heartedly palming his chest. _This is wrong, this is wrong, this is wrong._ In the darkness, neither needed to see. Rick was the one who ended the second kiss. The moonlight came through the window, lighting them up.  


“Oh, shit,” Rick said, as if seeing Daryl for the first time. “Oh, _no, no, no_ –”  


Lori flashed into his head, her face horrified. _Rickhowcouldyou, wetrustedyou, lookatwhatyou’redoing -_  


Daryl heard Merle’s voice in his ear, hissing, _my little brother’s one of_ those _, huh?_  


Rick was torn. He let go, hands going to his head. Both of them were breathless, adrenaline spiking.  


“This was a mistake,” Daryl said.  


“No, it isn’t,” Rick said, looking at him. “It – this is, this is _right_ , this is –”  


Daryl was shaking his head, eyes wide in a way Rick had never seen before.  


“No, this was a bad idea –”  


“Stop sayin’ that,” Rick snapped, grabbing him by the shoulders. Daryl looked at him, narrowing his eyes.  


“What have we _done_?” he asked. “This isn’t _allowed_. You’re married – Lori an’ Carl are –”  


Daryl seemed to be getting angry, as if he was blaming Rick. “If you’d kept your damn mouth _shut_ then this wouldn’t have –”  


Rick didn’t let him finish, taking his face in his hands and drawing him in again. He wanted to remember that mix of alcohol and smoke that was entirely _Daryl_ , wanted to breathe it in until Lori was wiped from his mind, wanted to just – leave the guilt behind. Daryl was still tense but he no longer pushed back, one hand even grasping Rick’s hair at the back. The shaft of moonlight through the window dimmed and they were in the dark again. Rick breathed in through his nose, his forehead against Daryl’s. He felt Daryl’s hand in his hair, felt his heartbeat under his skin. The hand slipped away. Let go.  


“Daryl –”  


“Don’t say anythin’,” he replied sharply. “Don’t – don’t make me think.”  


Rick reached out. Found his shoulder.  


“We tell nobody,” he said. “When we go back. This ends here. Nothing from this point on. This was – a one off thing.”  


In the dark, Daryl nodded.  


“M’kay.”  


Rick found his face again. Said no more.


	5. Guilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl and Rick realise what they've done can never leave the gas station. A chance of escape comes when the herd thins out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost 1k hits! I hope you guys are liking this fic, there's so much to come!

Rick’s eyes cracked open. The first thing he noticed was the weight on his shoulder. He looked aside. Daryl’s head was resting on him. Face closer than ever before, his cheek almost on his chest. Rick lifted a hand gingerly, touching Daryl’s hair before drawing it back, unsure of what to actually do. He rubbed his eyes with a thumb and forefinger. _What the hell are we doing?_  


There wasn’t much walker activity outside. Rick wanted to get up and check but he didn’t want to move Daryl. He rubbed his face again. Sighed deeply. _What are we_ doing _?_  


“I don’t know if this was right or wrong,” he whispered hoarsely. “It feels _right_ , but I – when I see ... their faces, at the camp ... lookin’ at me – lookin’ at us –”  
He stopped himself. _It makes it feel wrong._  


Daryl didn’t wake. Just turned slightly, mumbling in his sleep. Rick felt a lump in his throat form.  


“I ain’t no ... damn ... p ...”  


Rick looked at him again. _He’s talking in his sleep._ Daryl’s brow furrowed and he muttered something quieter. Shifted uncomfortably. “Get off my back ...”  


“Daryl,” Rick whispered.  


“Sonuva ... bitch ...”  


“Daryl, wake up.”  


“You ain’t ... changin’ my mind about ... hi ...”  


“You’re talkin’ in your sleep, man, get up,” Rick said louder. At first, it had seemed funny. Cute, almost. But he realised who Daryl was talking to and needed to wake him.  


“Daryl!” he barked, elbowing him. Daryl’s eyes shot open and he snatched up his knife, eyes wide.  


“Mer –”  


He stopped when he saw Rick looking at him. “Oh.”  


“You were talkin’ in your sleep,” Rick said awkwardly. Daryl lowered the knife, blinking. Rubbed his nose.  


“Oh,” he said again. As Rick watched, he stood and rolled his shoulders, rubbing his mouth. Then he slowed, eyes sliding back over to the sheriff. “Oh, _shit._ ”  


Rick frowned.  


“What?” he asked.  


“You, an’ ...” Daryl trailed off, touching his chest with his finger. _Me._ “That ...”  


“Remember what I said,” Rick replied, standing too and stretching his neck. “This was a – a one-off. We don’t mention it.”  


“Yeah.”  


“I think the, uh. The walkers are movin’ on. We should be able to go today,” Rick said, checking his pistol and knife were at his belt. Daryl squinted through the window, lifting a hand to shield the glaring early morning sun from his eyes.  


“Yeah, looks like we can go right now. They’re not all over our car anymore ... we could get it back?”  


His voice lifted questioningly and when Rick looked, Daryl’s eyes were on him. He cleared his throat.  


“Yeah. Grab all you need and let’s go. The group’re probably lookin’ for us and the sooner we get back, the less time they’ll spend worryin’.”  


“Sounds good to me,” Daryl answered, hefting his crossbow onto his shoulder. They gathered the supplies into their packs and did a final sweep of the store. Rick led the way out, Daryl following him closely, crossbow ready.  


A walker reared its head, snarling as it saw them. Another lifted its head, then another. Rick raised his gun and shot the first, kneeing the second one so it stumbled before shooting the third. Daryl drove a knife into the stumbling walker’s head.  


“Behind you!” he shouted. Rick spun and a walker was reaching for him. Its fingers tugged at his shirt and he almost fell, trying to lift his arm to shoot it. A bolt struck its head and it tipped back, letting go. Rick saw Daryl lowering the crossbow. _No time to look. Just fight._  


Another walker snagged onto Rick and he stuck the gun under its chin. Brains blasted from the back of its skull and then he ran, grabbing Daryl by the arm.  


“Move!” he shouted. They ran, slashing at walkers’ heads when they had to, Daryl overtaking Rick. A walker latched onto Rick’s collar and he fell hard, his head hitting the sidewalk. White flashed across his vision and he tasted blood on his tongue. The walker on top of him was gurgling directly into his ear, saliva dripping onto his cheek.  


“Hey, you ugly bitch!”  


A crossbow butted the walker in the head and it rolled off, a knife stabbing into its cheek. Rick felt hands grabbing his arm, lifting him.  


Daryl dragged the sheriff to his feet and pushed the gun into his hand. Rick held his head, his vision black around the edges, everything blurring. Daryl reached the car first and lifted his crossbow to his face. Rick stumbled over to him, blinking rapidly.  


“Come on!” Daryl exclaimed. Rick swung his pack down and scrambled through the items, cursing his lack of initiative to find the keys first. He shook his head to try and clear his vision.  


“Hurry up!” Daryl hissed, shooting two walkers. He reloaded an arrow, knife in his mouth.  


“I’m tryin’!” Rick snapped, rifling past packets and ammo slots. He heard a walker fall right behind him. The blood from its head sprayed onto his hand.  


“ _Rick!_ ”  


He found the car keys and tugged them free from the gun trigger they were hooked on. He got the keys into the car door and unlocked the driver side, tossing them to Daryl so he could unlock the passenger side. Climbing in behind the wheel, Rick pushed the opposite door open once it was unlocked.  


“Get in!” he said breathlessly, pulling on Daryl. There was a fumble of hands as he took the keys. The door slammed shut and the walker snarls were muted, the only sound their ragged breaths and the dull thumps hitting the car exterior.  


“The hell’re you waitin’ for?” Daryl asked angrily. “Get those damn keys in the ignition!”  


Rick’s hand was shaking as he tried to put the keys under the steering wheel. His knuckle knocked off the wheel and he dropped the keys. Daryl raised his hands. “Oh, you gotta be _kiddin’_ me!”  


Rick was trying to find the keys around his feet but his vision was warped, his head pounding. Daryl stared out the window, then to Rick. “What’s wrong?”  


“My head – I can’t see straight –”  


“God _damn_ it.”  


Daryl leaned over him, pushing him back in his seat roughly. He searched blindly around the floor at Rick’s feet, one hand on the dashboard, grimacing. His finger looped through the keychain and he sat up, holding them in his fist. Walkers kept biting and clawing at the glass but Daryl didn’t seem to notice them, looking at Rick’s head, squinting at the blood matting his hair.  


“Yeah, pretty nasty cut on your forehead. Think you can drive?”  


Rick shook his head.  


“I ...”  


He felt sick. Daryl grabbed his shoulder.  


“Can you _drive_?”  


When Rick didn’t respond, Daryl grit out, “damnit.” He grabbed the front of Rick’s shirt and heaved him across the seats, manoeuvring over him so he could get behind the wheel. He ignored the pain that flared in his arm. The walkers were hammering on the glass harder now, the back window cracking.  


“Hold on,” Daryl said with a wry smile, bringing the engine roaring to life. Rick barely heard him over the ringing in his ears. The car reversed violently, bowling over the walkers that were crawling over the back, the tyres screeching. Rick grabbed into the door as they veered. Daryl spun the wheel, slamming his foot on the accelerator, knocking walkers over sideways. Rick’s head hit the window and he winced, the burning behind his eyes intensifying. The car tipped as walkers crowded onto the side, slamming into the driver side. Daryl changed gears and hit the gas. The car crashed through the wall of walkers and swerved onto the road, leaving a bloody trail behind. They drove continuously for half an hour before it was clear and they were back on the road to the farm.  


“You okay?” Daryl asked, taking his eyes of the road to look at Rick for a second. “You don’t look so hot.”  


“M’fine,” Rick muttered, screwing his eyes shut and holding his forehead. It was slippery under his fingers. “I jus’ ... hit my head.”  


“Yeah, I know. Seems like you hit it pretty hard,” Daryl said, slowing the car to a crawl, glancing between the road and Rick. “Man, you’re bleedin’ a lot.”  


“I’m f ...”  


Rick’s head slumped forwards. Daryl shook his shoulder.  


“Rick? Don’t pass out on me. _Rick?_ ”  


He checked the sideview mirrors and stopped the car, getting out and going round to the passenger side. He pulled Rick from the passenger seat and put him across the back seats. Checked his pulse.  


“Man, this has been one helluva trip to the gas station,” he muttered, getting back behind the wheel. Continued driving. After a while, he fiddled with the radio but it only responded with bursts of static and tinny pop music. He gave up. Drove in silence, chewing his thumbnail. Thinking.  


In his dream, Merle had been taunting him. Saying things about Rick – about what it made Daryl. Daryl’s brow furrowed. His brother had always said those things. If he saw it on TV, he would spit at it. Mock it. His opinion had always been what mattered – always been what went, and Daryl followed. It was getting under his skin.  


_You’re just some damn pansy._  


Daryl shook his head.  


“I ain’t.”  


_You’re not? As far as I can see, you an’ sheriff Rick are mighty close now. Bunk buddies, even._  


“Shut your mouth.”  


_Nah. I ain’t standin’ for this. I raised you. I raised you good an’ proper. No way are you endin’ up just another nancy._  


Daryl shook his head again, as if his brother’s influence would go away. It was eating him up inside.  


_You’re bent, little brother. I can see it now._  


“I don’t give a _shit_ what you can see.”  


“Who’re you talkin’ to?”  


Rick’s voice was hoarse as he sat up, using his elbows to lever himself higher up. Daryl met his eyes in the rear-view mirror.  


“Myself,” he lied. Rick snorted. But he didn’t ask again. Daryl glanced at him again. “How’s your head?”  


“Fine. Better. Bleeding’s stopped.”  


“Good.”  


They reached the farm. The car moved down the track. Rick saw people at the camp stand up and begin running towards them. Lori was at the front, followed closely by Dale, Glenn and Shane. The car halted and Daryl got out, helping Rick up from the backseats. Lori flew into his arms straight away, holding him tight, withdrawing when she felt the blood in his hair.  


“What happened?” she gasped, looking at him. Carl grabbed round Rick’s waist fiercely and he crouched, hugging them both. Over Lori’s shoulder, he saw Daryl. Felt a pang of guilt.  


“Are you alright? What happened?” Dale asked, reaching them. Daryl shrugged his crossbow onto his shoulder.  


“Got in some trouble. Got out okay. Rick hit his head in escapin’, but he’ll be alright.”  


He began to walk away immediately. He didn’t want to hang around Rick and his family. He didn’t want to meet Rick’s eyes – feel shame when he looked at Lori, for what they had done behind her back. And he definitely didn’t want anyone reading it from his face. Shane watched him walking away, tilting his head.  


“Daryl, where’re you goin’?” he called. Daryl stopped. “Y’just got back – why’re you runnin’ away so fast?”  


Daryl turned. Carol rushed over to him with a relieved smile.  


“We were about to go after you, you know,” she said. “But Shane – he said we had to wait. That you’d be fine, and we’d just be risking more people chasing you.”  


“Did he now?” Daryl murmured, narrow gaze meeting Shane’s. Shane eyed him, a slight smile on his face. Carol touched Daryl’s arm and he winced.  


“Daryl, your arm!” she gasped, trying to see it. He moved it away from her.  


“M’fine. Just go make sure Rick is alright. He could have a concussion.”  


“Hershel’s there, it’s fine. Daryl – how did you hurt your arm?”  


She lowered her voice in fear. “Is it a _bite_?”  


“The hell? Of course not, lady. You think I’d get bitten?” Daryl asked. Carol laughed weakly. She moved him over to the camp and sat him down, turning his arm so she could see the bandages. As she removed them, Daryl found her glancing at his face a lot.  


“What?”  


“I’m just glad you’re okay.”  


Daryl pushed down the shame that climbed, choking, up from the pit of his stomach. Carol still thought they … had something. He’d forgotten about it, when Rick and he …  


“Same for you,” he said unconvincingly. If Carol heard, she didn’t notice anything wrong in his voice.  


“How did you hurt it?” she asked again, quieter. Looked him in the eye.  


“We tried to get out. Herd swarmed us. Rick got taken down and I went to help. He thought I was a walker.”  


Carol looked faintly appalled.  


“He _stabbed_ you?”  


“It was my fault. I grabbed his arm from behind. He reacted the right way.”  


“… I’m glad he didn’t go for your head.”  


“I said the same thing.”  


They shared a tight smile. Carol glanced back to where Hershel was leading Rick to the farmhouse. Carol looked at Daryl.  


“Let’s get Hershel to look at you when he’s done with Rick.”  


“I’m fine. Let me go already.”  


“Daryl. It needs stitches. You’re letting Hershel look at it.”  


As she passed them, Lori caught Daryl’s eye and smiled gratefully. He just felt the bitter guilt. Carol saw the look on his face.  


“What is it?” she asked, frowning. He shook his head.  


“Nothin’, I’m just worried ’bout Rick.”  


She smiled slightly and patted his arm.  


“He’ll be okay. Don’t worry.”


	6. Playing with Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick can't take hiding it anymore, but knows precautions must be taken to not be seen.

Rick opened his eyes. His head hurt but his vision was clearing. Hershel was sat next to him.  


“How do you feel?” he asked gently. Rick licked his dry lips.  


“I'm fine. How’s Daryl?”  


“He’s fine. His arm is healing up. You just take it easy, now. No getting up and definitely no walking around until you can see straight.”  


Rick just nodded. His forehead itched where it was stitched up. Hershel stood.  


“I’ll go get Lori.”  


Rick watched him go through heavy-lidded eyes, returning his gaze to the ceiling once he was gone.  


Daryl was on his mind again.  


The gas station.  


The dark.  


He sighed. He’d have to face it. But then … they’d agreed to not mention. Leave it behind at the gas station. Still, it was bugging Rick, scratching around at the back of his mind. He closed his eyes and tried to picture Lori – bring back what he felt for her. Instead, he heard Shane.  


“How’s your head?”  


It took Rick a moment to realise it wasn’t inside his head. He opened his eyes. Shane was sat by him, leaning over, cap in hand, a slight smile on his face. Rick shrugged a shoulder.  


“S’fine. Gettin’ better.”  


“Y'able to talk right now?” Shane asked. Glanced over his shoulder. Rick frowned. Why was he so shifty?  


“Why?”  


“Jus’ that, uh …” Shane leaned in close. “Daryl’s been hangin’ outside your door all day but he hasn’t come in. It’s a bit weird, yeah?”  


“How so?” Rick asked, lifting his head painfully. Shane rubbed his lower lip with his thumb, glancing back again.  


“He ain’t said a word to anyone, really. But he ain’t come in either. Guy’s talkin’ less than normal.”  


“Send him in,” Rick said. “I’ll talk to him. Shane stood and put his cap back on. He stopped by the door, holding the handle. Looked back to Rick.  


“Anythin’ up?” he asked. Rick blinked.  


“No.”  


“Okay. Jus’ wonderin’ cause he’s been actin’ weird. Not talkin’, not meetin’ anyone’s eyes. As soon as you got back, he tried to run off. Carol had to stop him so Hershel could look at his arm.”  


He opened the door when Rick said nothing and gestured over his shoulder.  


“He’s all yours.”  


Daryl waited until Shane was gone to come into the room, closing the door behind him. He stood awkwardly by the bed, arms crossed. Rick looked at him, feeling that pull in his heart.  


“How‘s your arm?”  


“Fine. How’s your head?”  


“Great.”  


Daryl sat in the chair by Rick’s bed, strangely distant. Rick reached out and took his wrist, pulling him closer. “Daryl, we have to talk. About … you know.”  


Daryl said nothing. His eyes were on anything in the room but Rick. Rick sighed. “Or, we don’t. Whatever. I jus’ want you to know that –”  


“Let go of my arm.”  


“I – what?”  


“Y’heard me.”  


Rick let go.  


“Y'said, what happened at the station, stays at the station. Okay? I’m stickin’ to it. We’re at risk of jus’ bein’ noticed. Your boy Shane keeps eyin’ me like I killed his dog or somethin’.”  


“He was just confused by how distant you were bein’.”  


“I had things on my mind.”  


“I’m sure you did,” Rick muttered, turning his head away. It was pounding and he blinked away the fuzziness.  


“Y'said this was a one-off thing. Stop tryin’ to bring it back up. I can’t move on if you keep trying to talk about it. Let me forget. Let yourself forget. Cause if we don’t … it could end badly for both of us.”  


“I know. I’m sorry.”  


Daryl leaned back in the chair, scratching his arm. Gazed at the ceiling. Said nothing. Rick was torn, wanting to pursue this, but he knew it would be stupid to do so.  


“I’m goin’. Hang in there.”  


The brief touch of Daryl’s hand on his shoulder send Rick’s mind into a spiral of sickening guilt. He pushed himself up on his elbow, taking Daryl by the collar and dragging him in. His mouth against Daryl’s, he tasted blood and cigarette smoke. The pain went from his head, left him numb on the inside, until all he felt was the man in front of him. Daryl tugged free, stumbling back, breathless. He glanced at the door, then to Rick. Wiped his mouth.  


“Fuck you, Grimes.”  


It wasn’t anger in his voice. They both jumped as the door opened and Lori came in. She stopped when she saw Daryl.  


“Oh – I didn’t know you were in here,” she said, mildly surprised. Daryl looked at Rick.  


“S’fine. I was jus’ goin’. I wanted t'make sure Rick was fine.”  


He left wordlessly. Lori sat down, hands on her thighs, smiling gently. She smoothed the hair from Rick’s forehead.  


“How’re you doing?” she whispered.  


“Okay,” Rick replied. All he could see was the look on Daryl’s face. He knew what it meant. It was like he’d been betrayed. Daryl had been letting go and Rick had pulled him right back into the flames.  


They were playing with fire.  


They were going to get burned.  


*

One month passed. Rick’s head got better with no adverse effects. Daryl’s arm healed and he went back to hunting, spending all his time away from the camp. All the time, it was getting harder to distance themselves from what had happened. Every day, Rick’s chest got tighter as he spent time with Lori and Carl. Each time he saw Daryl, his skin went cold and he remembered that mix of smoke and beer. Acrid taste. Mouth on his.  


_Lori’s face, betrayed._ Rick wiped both images away every time they showed up in his head. He was tired of fighting both sides.  


Daryl stayed away from the main camp more so than normal. Being around Rick was ... bad. He could control his feelings fine. It was Rick’s self-control he doubted. The sheriff had broken his own words – _this ends here ... nothing from this point on_ – already. And if he did it again, it would become more difficult to fight. They could get caught. Even killed, knowing Shane’s attitude towards them both. Jealousy of Rick. Disdain of Daryl.  


So he stayed away. Slowly forgot the feeling of Rick’s hands on his face, the look in his eyes. It was dead space between them now.  


Rick rose early one morning. He left Carl and Lori sleeping in the tent, stepping into the fresh air. He pulled a shirt on over his tee against the cold. His breath was a white cold. Dale was already on watch from the roof of his RV, waving vaguely at Rick. Shane was outside, loading the back of one of their trucks.  


“Goin’ somewhere?” Rick asked, coming over. Shane nodded.  


“Yeah. Goin’ out with Andrea to look for some supplies. Won’t be long.”  


As he spoke, Andrea came out of the RV, her hair tied up and a face that said business. Rick left the two, going and sitting at the entrance to his tent, feeling the scar on his forehead. From where he was sat, he could see Daryl’s camp.  


_Shane and Andrea are going out. That’s two pairs of eyes leaving. If anyone else goes too ... it could work._  


He cleared this throat and his head. He was barely paying attention to his thoughts nowadays as they always returned to Daryl. Stupid. Behind him, the tent unzipped and Lori looked out.  


“You alright?” she asked, eyes searching his face. She looked tired.  


“I’m fine,” Rick said, smiling at her. “Jus’ woke up early. You can go back to sleep if you want.”  


“Okay. Tell me if something’s wrong.”  


She disappeared back into the tent. Rick let the smile fall from his face, turning his knife over in his hands, the point spinning on his fingertip.  


It got harder to look her in the eye day by day.  


*

The afternoon was hot and uneventful. Andrea and Shane left just before midday, suggesting they would return closer to evening. Lori and Carol did the washing with Carl’s help, Glenn keeping watch from the RV roof. Dale was helping all around. Watching them, Rick noticed how busy they all were. Lori had her head down now, chopping carrots. Carol was talking to her and Carl. Glenn seemed to be falling asleep.  


_Now or never._  


Daryl walked past Rick, a dead deer over his shoulder. Lori pointed with her knife.  


“If you put it over there, we can bring it to Hershel.”  


Daryl dumped the deer and wiped his hands together. Saw Rick watching. Looked away. He made his way back, heading to his camp. Rick followed, hurrying after him. He caught Daryl by the arm.  


“Meet me behind the barn in half an hour,” he whispered. “I need to talk to you about somethin’ urgent.”  


Daryl frowned. Nodded.  


“Alrigh’.”  


Half an hour later, Rick was waiting behind the barn. His heart was pounding. He heard sound and checked around the corner. It was Andrea and Shane.  


“Shit,” he muttered, moving back to hide. He wouldn’t – couldn’t – tell Daryl to come back some other time. He would just have to be more careful.  


Footsteps approached, the dry grass crunching underfoot. Daryl rounded the corner. He saw Rick.  


“What’d you wanna talk about?” he asked. Leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets.  


“We could, uh. Send a group out sometime. To search the town thoroughly – y’know, find all we can. Repay Hershel with ... stuff.”  


Daryl narrowed his eyes. Crossed his arms.  


“An’ we needed t’meet here t’decide on ... findin’ ... _stuff._ ”  


Rick swallowed. The lump in his throat stayed, painful.  


“I can’t pretend anymore.”  


“What? Wait –”  


Rick grasped Daryl around the waist, pulling him close and pressing their lips together hard. For a moment, it worked. Then Daryl pushed down on his arms, turning his head away.  


“Son of a bitch,” he said, slightly dazed. “You stupid asshole.”  


“You like it,” Rick said, trying to stop the smile tugging at his mouth.  


“And the others won’t,” Daryl said, glancing over his shoulder.  


“They can’t see us,” Rick replied, leaning in again. Daryl’s breath was warm on his face.  


“If they see us –”  


“They can’t, I promise.”  


Daryl squinted at him. Lifted a hand to Rick’s shoulder.  


“S’alright with me, then,” he said.  


This was what Rick had missed. The danger – of being caught, being seen – but also just Daryl. He was volatile. Uncomfortable. He’d push Rick away and then let him close, and it was a thrill going from one to two. The heat of him, Daryl’s hand sliding down his arm, gripping his shirt. That mix of sweat, dirt, blood, smoke – it sent a rush to his head that he would never get used to. Chipped fingernails catching on his sleeve, moving up to keep his head in, until they both had to break for air. In those pauses between kisses, their consciences wormed in.  


_If Lori could see this, knew about this –_  


Rick pushed it away, thinking of only Daryl. 

_Oh, little brother, look at what you’ve become –_  


Daryl forced his brother's taunts away, feeling the hands tight around his waist, Rick's hair in his hands. 

They kissed with more force, burying those thoughts back and forgetting the outside world, outside of this right now, past the edges of the barn.  


Over at the camp, Glenn saw movement at the barn and lifted his gun. Looked through the sights. It was if his heart stopped then. _No, it can’t be –_  


It was. He lowered his gun and looked away, heart pounding at what he had witnessed. His throat was drying up. He could barely register what he had seen. Behind him, Lori looked up from the carrots she was slicing and wiped her knife.  


“You see something?” she asked. Glenn blinked.  


“No, I –”  


He turned, making eye contact with her. He forced a smile to reassure her. “I just – thought I saw a walker. It was nothing.”  


“You’re sure?”  


“Yeah,” Glenn said, climbing down and moving past her quickly. He needed to find Dale.  


Dale was inside his RV when Glenn burst in.  


“What’s this?” Dale asked, grabbing his gun. “Are we under attack?”  


“No, no,” Glenn said, brushing his fringe back as he caught his breath. “Are we – are we alone in here?”  


Dale frowned.  


“Yes, but why –”  


“Can I tell you something?” Glenn interrupted breathlessly. “You have to promise not to tell L – anyone.”  


“Slow down, you’re scaring me,” Dale said, raising a hand. “What is it you need to say?”  


“I just –” Glenn lowered his voice and Dale leaned in. “I just saw Rick and Daryl. Behind the barn.”  


“Well, they discuss things –”  


“No. _Together_ ,” Glenn insisted, trying to catch Dale’s eye and get him to realise. Dale chuckled.  


“What were they doing, _kissing?_ You have to be clearer.”  


Glenn looked at him, unsmiling. Dale’s smile slipped away, replaced by alarm. “ _What?_ You’re sure they weren’t just – talkin’ – very, very closely?”  


Glenn shook his head.  


“I’m sure.”  


Dale sat down slowly, eyes wide under his furrowed brows. He looked up at Glenn, who was looking at the floor, hands in his pockets.  


“Rick wouldn’t – not with Lori and ...” Dale seemed stunned. “Did – did Daryl – did he initiate it?”  


Glenn’s words made Dale’s heart sink.  


“I don’t know, but Rick definitely was more ... I don’t know how to put it – _enthusiastic_?”  


Dale was staring blankly, one hand on the table as if for support.  


“Do you think this was something that started at the gas station?” Glenn asked.  


“I couldn’t say,” Dale answered, still half bewildered by the news.  


“We have to tell.”  


Dale looked up fast.  


“No!”  


He realised how loudly he had spoken, lowering his voice to a whisper again, urgent. “Glenn – we can’t – this would destroy them, their reputations – not mention Lori, Carl, Carol ...”  


“We can’t tell nobody!” Glenn argued. “An affair like this – it’s like fricking Brokeback Mountain!”  


Dale shushed him, hands up. He glanced at the window.  


“Then what do we do?” Glenn asked. “I can’t – won’t – spend a meal with Lori, knowing what I know.”  


They were silent for a few minutes, thinking furiously at what they could do. Voices came from outside the RV. Rick going over to Lori. Hugging her around the shoulders. Smiling at Carl.  


“I still can’t believe it,” Dale said, both of them watching. “Glenn, are you _sure –_ ”  


“Yes. I know what I saw,” Glenn replied. He moved to the door of the RV.  


“Don’t say anything, Glenn,” Dale warned. Glenn stopped but didn’t turn, hand on the doorframe.  


“I have to do something,” he said, leaving Dale. To his surprise, Glenn passed right by Rick and his family. Past Andrea and Shane.  


_Shane._ Dale went cold. If he found out ... Rick and Daryl were as good as dead.  


Wait. If Glenn had ignored Rick, there was only one other place he was going. Dale raced out the RV. Glenn was halfway across the field. Dale dithered for a moment before starting after him.  


Daryl looked up from his crossbow to see Glenn striding towards him. He looked back down.  


“The hell’re you doin’ over here?”  


Glenn stopped by the line of strung-up woodland creatures and ears. Steeled himself.  


“Daryl, I ...” Glenn paused to fold his arms, looking at the ground. He looked directly at Daryl when he spoke. “I know about you and Rick.”  


Daryl stopped moving. Very slowly, carefully, he lifted his head, eyes finding Glenn’s.  


“You know what?”  


His voice was quiet.  


“About you. And Rick,” Glenn repeated, emphasising ‘Rick’.  


Daryl’s jaw worked silently.  


“You can’t lie. I saw you. Behind the barn.”  


Dale came running up behind Glenn. He saw Glenn’s determined face and made an exasperated sound.  


“Glenn, you didn’t –”  


“How do you feel?” Glenn demanded, acting like Dale wasn’t there. “To do this to Lori – Carl – _Carol_ –”  


Daryl stood fast.  


“What the fuck are you talkin’ about?” he said angrily. He jabbed Glenn’s chest with his fingers, hard. Glenn poked back.  


“Don’t do that.”  


“Or what?” Daryl asked, jabbing again. “You come over here, throwin’ around fuckin’ insane accusations –”  


He jabbed again. Glenn pushed him. Daryl shoved back. Dale’s begs for them to calm down went unheard. Then Glenn swung a fist, hitting Daryl’s face. Dale grabbed him before he could swing again.  


“You’re fuckin’ crazy, man,” Daryl said, straightening up, a bruise forming on his jaw. “You’re seein’ things. Stay the hell away from me.”  


Dale wrestled Glenn away, with Glenn throwing one last filthy look over his shoulder.  


“You stay away from Maggie,” he spat. “She’s taken – but that doesn’t stop you, does it?”  


Daryl watched them go with narrowed eyes.

When they were gone, he crossed the field to where Rick was. He grabbed the sheriff by the arm and marched him to behind the barn, where he let go. Rick was bewildered.  


“What is this?” he asked, laughing slightly. Rick’s smile dropped when he saw the bruise on Daryl’s jaw.  


“Who did that to you?” he demanded.  


“Glenn,” Daryl said. When Rick tried to take his face in his hands for a closer look, he hit his hands away. “No, get _off_ me. Look, Glenn knows. He fuckin’ _knows_."

Rick’s blood ran cold. _No. No way._  


“How?” he asked, trying to read Daryl’s eyes. Daryl was refusing to look at him.  


“Stupid kid came chargin’ into my camp, hollerin’ about ‘knowing’. He said he saw us. Behind the barn. I lied, told him he was seein’ things. He swung at me. Must’ve told Dale ‘cause he was there, stopped him hittin’ me again.”  


Rick had his hands over his mouth, breathing through his nose. _Glenn knew. He fucking knew._ Their secret couldn’t be out – not with Shane, Lori, Carl, Carol – screw it, _everyone_ , here. Daryl was angry.  


“Fuck, Rick, what do we _do_?” he hissed, running a hand through his hair. “This was a fuckin’ stupid thing to think we could carry on.”  


“Don’t say that,” Rick said. “We just – gotta be more careful, is all –”  


“We _were_ careful!” Daryl cut in. “ _Careful_ isn’t enough! One word from Glenn’s mouth and we’re dead. The group’ll all hate you, but they’ll hate me more.”  


_“Why?”  
_

“Cause I’m the one fuckin’ _with_ you! Don’t you get it? They might look at you and think, cheater, but they’re gonna see me and think, I fuckin’ took you away! Shane would want to fuckin’ skin you, but everyone else would wanna see me gone.”  


He stopped, taking a deep breath. “I’m calling this off.”  


“What? No –”  


“ _I am._ This is it. We can’t risk being caught, not by anyone else. We’re in danger of Glenn blabbing his big damn mouth as is.”  


Rick was speechless. He was reeling at the idea of being caught. Exposed. He saw the look on Lori’s face again as she held Carl, both behind Shane. _How could you do this to them, Rick?_ he asked softly. _I guess they are better off with me._  


“I’m done,” Daryl said, meeting Rick’s eyes finally. “What we had – it ends here. When I walk away, there is no more talk of this, not even a _look_. Get it?”  


“Daryl –” Rick said, trying to grasp him. Daryl moved further back to avoid him. Rick caught him by the arm, pulled him in, managed half a second of a desperate kiss before Daryl was shoving him away.  


“Man, you don’t _get_ it, do you?” he exclaimed furiously. “I said _it’s over_ , and I –”  


“I don’t want it to be over,” Rick interrupted. Daryl stopped. Wiped his mouth, as if he was trying to forget. “I don’t want to be caught. But to end this – so soon – you can’t honestly want that.”  


Daryl’s fury subsided, replaced by a hollowness.  


“It ends. No more said.”  


He left Rick standing alone.


End file.
